Journey With A Twist
by Breineach
Summary: Prologue to an alternate Samurai Champloo narration. New adventures! New characters! More chapters to come!


Disclaimer: Not only do I not own any Samurai Champloo characters, but I really don't own anything of any value whatsoever. Enjoy!

When we first saw her, I knew she would be joining us. She was fishing in the river, without a pole. Standing knee-deep in the rushing water, with only her houtai wrapped from chest to thigh, she dipped her hands under the surface and stood motionless for a moment. Then, with a surge of movement, a fish was flung onto the shore, where a pile of the flipping, gasping creatures was already waiting by her fire. Those men stared in disbelief, but I was more concerned about her propriety. How could a woman, fully matured, disrobe in such a public place!

I ran right up to where her clothing hung on a tree and called out, "Hey, get outta there! Don't you realize you're at the edge of a pathway?" She looked up, dazzled from her concentration on catching lunch. Silently, she strode through the water and as she came closer to where we stood at the bank, I realized that this was a very dangerous person indeed. She walked like a cat, and seemed as aloof and deadly as one.

She took the clothes I handed her and started to envelope herself in them, looking in turn at me, then Jin, and lastly Mugen. I followed her gaze as it lingered on the savage, and moaned when I saw him putting her fish into the fire.

"Those aren't yours, don't touch them," I exclaimed.

Mugen, the ingrate, blithely informed me that one person could never eat all those fish by themselves, and that he was doing a stranger a favor. "Some favor!" I thought, but I sure was hungry too.

The unknown woman waved her hand at the fire and Mugen, as if to say, go ahead, so I sat and started tending the fire, seeing as how she was now properly dressed.

Well, kind of properly dressed, anyway. Her happi coat was obviously a man's, and made her look a little like one, especially with the way she bandaged her body flat with the houtai. The hakama that she wore was cut rather tight though, which helped to at least show off her lower curves. In short, she was dressed as a samurai! Her clothes were even of silk, although they lacked any crest or even the simplest ornamentation. They were simply grey, with a beautiful, if plain, silver sheen. She finished tying her obi, looking not in the least embarrassed about the men watching her dress, and retrieved her weapons from the crook of the tree.

Just then, Jin drew his katana and lunged at her, uttering an unintelligible curse! The stranger dodged, and drew her own. She then struck, and as Jin parried, the sharp strike of metal on metal rang out along the riverbank. I leaped up and tried to pry them away with my fish.

"Help me, Mugen! They'll kill each other!"

"Good," he said with his mouth full, "more fish for me."

I couldn't believe him, why does he always think only of himself? The two fought, and to my stunned eyes, this silent stranger seemed of equal fighting ability with Jin. "How can this be?" I questioned her, while pulling at Jin's coat.

"Who are you?" Jin asked through strokes of the blade. "Why do you have that daisho?" With a graceful and practiced feint, the female warrior brought her sword up in a devastating arc, aimed directly at Jin's face. As he reflexively pulled back, the tip of the blade caught his glasses, launching them off his face and into the air.

The woman deftly caught them in her fingers, and responded, "Why do you have these glasses?" Jin lowered his katana, the two at a stalemate.

"Because they were made for my eyes," he replied.

"As your glasses were made for your eyes, my daisho was made for my hands." She spoke quietly, with a heaviness that was almost a whisper of death. "Come, sit and eat-if there's any left- and I'll share some of my story." The stranger woman sheathed her sword, returned Jin's glasses, and sat-cross-legged, like a man!

I couldn't hold back any more, and shouted, "Who are you? Are you a man or a woman? You look and sound like a woman, but everything else about you is like a man! You dress like a man, fight like a man, you're not even embarrassed to be seen almost naked by men!" Even Mugen stopped eating at my rudeness, but I really couldn't help myself. The glade was silent for a moment, as everyone stared at me. Then, the stranger picked up a cool cinder from the fire's edge and began manipulating it between her fingers as she started her legacy of heartbreak.

My name is Sojiro Shadou. I am the only child of Sojiro Kawazoe, master of the Sojiro dojo in the mountains south of Asuka. He taught many famous samurai and was a great man, but he was ashamed with me, because I was a girl and could not fulfill his dreams of having a son to lead the dojo after him. My mother, Fujiwara, was kidnapped to Europe when she was a girl, and brought back with her a different view of the world than my father had. Her foreign thinking was to save my life many times. As a child, she dressed me as a boy and sent me to the dojo to live as a student, so my father would not have to look at his disappointment every day when he came home. He eventually forgot that he had a daughter at all, and trained me along with the other noble's sons. So I learned bushido as a boy, and knew next to nothing about living as a noblewoman. My mother tried to covertly teach me, and I ran to her for help to disguise myself as I grew.

I excelled in iai-jutsu, for as my body grew into a woman's I was forced to train more and more by myself. My father was very proud of my skills, but he thought of me as just another pupil, albeit one full of great possibilities. When my kendo training was complete and I received my daisho, I left the dojo in secret. My father would never have let me leave, as I had become his star pupil. I said goodbye to my mother, and she was glad at my decision. I did not desire to be retained for service as a samurai fraudulently by continuing to pretend to be a man, and my mother felt that if I saw the world I would gain understanding of my life. I became a ronin, and traveled extensively over the next five years. I went many places and saw many things. I fought many battles and expanded my fighting styles. But everywhere I went I saw that the world was cruel to women, and that when I acted like one I was treated differently than when I acted as a man, in ways that I did not feel were respectful. I was disillusioned with the world and made my way home. I missed my mother, and she had always been able to explain the world in ways I could understand, and make it seem less unfair and harsh.

When I returned to the dojo, there was nothing left. It had been burned to the ground, but the bloodstains of the massacre were still visible as dried, tarry patches on the scorched tile. I sifted through the ruins but could discover no trace of my mother or father. The site was old, any personal effects and bodies left unburned had been carted away. I left my destroyed home and trekked into the village in the valley. The townsfolk would not acknowledge me, but I finally found a crone that pulled me into the back of her house to whisper about what had befallen the dojo. I remember that the room was very small and had smelled strongly of boiled cabbage, and as she told me the history, I felt more and more nauseous.

The neighboring prefecture had been under the control of a powerful yakuza clan even in my youth, although the old woman said she could remember when it was taken over by them. This clan, the Katori, had grown beyond the size of its territory, and not long after I left, attempted to take the lordships of my own area. After a few failed attempts at taking individual lords and being thwarted by reinforcements from the dojo, the yakuza overpowered the countryside by sending all of its troops to the dojo first. Since they outnumbered my father's relatively green students by hundreds, they were able to destroy the dojo, and even though they suffered heavy losses, there were still enough of them to then take the castles of the nobles and either push them out or kill them. The crone cried then, and would not finish her tale, but simply wailed that the Katori had moved in and destroyed everything, taxing the people until they were starving and taking anything they wanted. She wanted nothing more than to have her old lords back, so that she could die and her family could afford to bury her properly.

I escaped that room and fled back to the dojo, sick in my heart. I spent the night there, trying to find some comfort in the remembered shapes of the building remnants. In the morning, I knew that I was the only hope the people had. That clan had killed all the friends I had made in the dojo, my family was missing, probably dead, and it was my fault for running away from my father. I had to atone for abandoning the dojo, so I started my penance by drawing my sword.

Almost one year later, the Katori clan was in tatters, and the nobles that had taken flight rather than be killed were returning with new samurai to their newly emptied castles. My body was tired from hiding and striking with no rest, and my mind was tired from the constant stress of figuring new ways of getting through their ever-increasing defenses. I was also tired of the sight of blood. It took months for the scent of it to leave my nostrils. The folk were happy to have their freedoms and a few of their old lords back, and sent a delegation to tell me that they wanted me to stay and rebuild the dojo and become it's master, so that they could have my protection always.

I then told them who I was. The year had passed and the people I was liberating had not known that I was a woman, or that I had hidden my childhood in their dojo. It changed everything. It no longer mattered that I had killed or run off hundreds of the usurpers, that I had lost my parents to the same enemy that they had, or even that they had known and respected my father. I was now an imposter, and a female one at that. I was not worthy of rebuilding the dojo, and I was cast out of the area with stones and harsh words at my heels. I have been wandering aimlessly since. I do not know what I desire or where I am going. Life is worth nothing to me now, and I am like the leaf blown about in the wind, waiting to be caught and crushed. I am simply looking for someone who can kill me.

"Why don't you come with us then?" This came from Mugen, after we had sat digesting the fish and the story for a few minutes. "We meet people who want to kill us all the time! We'll find someone who'll kill you. If we can't, I'll just do it myself. I swear it!" I warmed to the idea quickly, but for different reasons…

"Shadou, please join us! I can teach you how to act like a woman, one who doesn't get looked down on and is respected! This will be a real challenge for me, but I'm ready for it."

"Hah, you get captured and sold to brothels, we always have to rescue you, and you're going to teach her how to be like that? She should stay like she is, but maybe with sexier clothes. I like strong women…" Mugen finished suggestively.

"Ugh, you're such an idiot!" I can't stand him sometimes! "Jin, do you have anything to add?" I asked, hoping for some positive input from his corner.

"No," is all he said. How typical! Impossible to read! Shadou agreed to come.

"I don't know how far you'll get with teaching me, but I have nothing better to do. Now tell me where you're going and why…"

And so resumed our journey, but with a twist.


End file.
